Desdichado
Hero
Oh, man! Exit 23 doth totally rock. Great writing, too!
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Dark*Matter: Gators Under Gary (Was Exit 23)
- Thread starter arwink
- Start date
arwink
Clockwork Golem
Exit 23, Part Six
“What in hell is happening out there?”
Nick was at Ammie’s side in a matter of moments, his pistol at ready. Zac was not far behind, barreling through the press of people trying to get a look.
Annie didn’t answer – she just stared that the hail of icicles raining down on the automobiles. There was the tinkling of glass as a windshield was smashed, a hiss of steam as another drove itself through the bonnet of another. Shards of ice rained down with the fury of a tropical storm, ripping through everything.
At least, everything with four wheels. The space between the doorway and the first car was just filled with wind and falling snow.
“Okay,” Ammie said firmly. “THAT is freakin’ weird.”
“Swamp gas,” Nick said.
“WHAT?”
“I’ve heard about this sort of thing happening,” Nick repeated. “Freak weather, localized over a short space. It’s usually caused by swamp gas.”
“Really?” Zac was suddenly enthused. There was a flash of light as he took a photo with his digital camera, checking the image on the screen. “Where did you read that? It sounds familiar, but I can’t quite remember…”
“Not important,” Nick said. “Wounded, remember?”
He turned to Ammie, his flashlight shining onto her face.
“We need one of those cars in working condition. Trooper should have a spare torch in her car as well, possibly a shotgun. Grab those as well, if you can. Assuming your still willing to go out there.”
“It’s just hail, right?” Ammie said.
“Sure,” Zac said. “Really sharp hail that punches through metal.”
“Foreign cars,” Nick said. “Cheap manufacturing.”
Ammie looked at the carnage being wrecked by the storm, glanced back at the scared faces of folks in the donut store.
“Grab the door,” she said. “I’ve got a sleeping back in my stuff – if we layer the door, I might be able to use it as cover against the worst of the storm.”
Nick nods, and motions Zac into action. They quickly cover the door with a thick layer of synthetic warmth, holding it in place with a bunch of tacks from the store notice board. Ammie hefted it, got the weight, and stepped out into the storm.
The cold hit her like a fist, the icy air hitting her lungs like a fist to the stomach. The door wavered in her hands as the wind clawed at it, trying to sweep it away. Ammie locked her grip on both sides, adjusting her balance and crunching forward with gritted teeth. She locked here eyes on the trooper’s four-wheel drive, counting down the distance she needed to cover. Sixty feet. Fifty. Forty. Thirty.
Then she felt the thump of something solid on the door, the sharp ripping noise as wood shattered, dissolving into a cloud of splinters that were swept away in the winds.
Ammie fall back into the snow, the force of the impact knocking her off her feet.
She was looking up at a psycho over eight feet tall.
Covered in a thick layer of icy fur.
With the head of a wolf, glaring at her with baleful red eyes.
As costumes went, she had to admit it was a good one.
“What in hell is happening out there?”
Nick was at Ammie’s side in a matter of moments, his pistol at ready. Zac was not far behind, barreling through the press of people trying to get a look.
Annie didn’t answer – she just stared that the hail of icicles raining down on the automobiles. There was the tinkling of glass as a windshield was smashed, a hiss of steam as another drove itself through the bonnet of another. Shards of ice rained down with the fury of a tropical storm, ripping through everything.
At least, everything with four wheels. The space between the doorway and the first car was just filled with wind and falling snow.
“Okay,” Ammie said firmly. “THAT is freakin’ weird.”
“Swamp gas,” Nick said.
“WHAT?”
“I’ve heard about this sort of thing happening,” Nick repeated. “Freak weather, localized over a short space. It’s usually caused by swamp gas.”
“Really?” Zac was suddenly enthused. There was a flash of light as he took a photo with his digital camera, checking the image on the screen. “Where did you read that? It sounds familiar, but I can’t quite remember…”
“Not important,” Nick said. “Wounded, remember?”
He turned to Ammie, his flashlight shining onto her face.
“We need one of those cars in working condition. Trooper should have a spare torch in her car as well, possibly a shotgun. Grab those as well, if you can. Assuming your still willing to go out there.”
“It’s just hail, right?” Ammie said.
“Sure,” Zac said. “Really sharp hail that punches through metal.”
“Foreign cars,” Nick said. “Cheap manufacturing.”
Ammie looked at the carnage being wrecked by the storm, glanced back at the scared faces of folks in the donut store.
“Grab the door,” she said. “I’ve got a sleeping back in my stuff – if we layer the door, I might be able to use it as cover against the worst of the storm.”
Nick nods, and motions Zac into action. They quickly cover the door with a thick layer of synthetic warmth, holding it in place with a bunch of tacks from the store notice board. Ammie hefted it, got the weight, and stepped out into the storm.
The cold hit her like a fist, the icy air hitting her lungs like a fist to the stomach. The door wavered in her hands as the wind clawed at it, trying to sweep it away. Ammie locked her grip on both sides, adjusting her balance and crunching forward with gritted teeth. She locked here eyes on the trooper’s four-wheel drive, counting down the distance she needed to cover. Sixty feet. Fifty. Forty. Thirty.
Then she felt the thump of something solid on the door, the sharp ripping noise as wood shattered, dissolving into a cloud of splinters that were swept away in the winds.
Ammie fall back into the snow, the force of the impact knocking her off her feet.
She was looking up at a psycho over eight feet tall.
Covered in a thick layer of icy fur.
With the head of a wolf, glaring at her with baleful red eyes.
As costumes went, she had to admit it was a good one.
arwink
Clockwork Golem
Exit 23, Part Seven
“Oh crap, oh crap.”
Zac started moving, a few seconds ahead of his cognitive thoughts that told him it was a bad idea. He slugged through the snow in a stumbling sprint, trying to cover the space between himself and the demon. there was a flash of black in the snow, a momentary glimpse of Ammie's hand as she struggled to find her feet, and then he was airborne. Sailing towards the creature in a flying tackle.
Five years of highschool football came rushing back to him, the feeling of his weight cruising through the air in an effort to intercept his opponent before it could do any damage. He hit the creature sqaurely, his shoulder driving into the things side...
…and it barely moved.
“Oh CRAP.”
Fetid breath caught Zac in the face, making him gag. He coughed, distracted just long enough for glittering claws to DRIVE into his stomach and sending him sprawling back in the snow. A wave of dizziness swept over him.
Zac's blood fountained out in a glittering arc, staining the snow as the numb wound gushed crimson fluid. Zac groaned, a hand held to his stomach, and contemplated the common sense of struggling back to his feet. He fought back unconsciousness, his eyes locked on teh glittering red of the wolf-creatures stare as it loomed over him. Zac felt every muscle in his body freeze.
He whimpered.
AAAAIIIIIYAAA.
Ammie was on her feet, pushing upright in a single fluid movement and using the momentum to carry her foot into the creatures’ crotch. The creature let out a straggled cry, its features turning to face the young woman who now stood with both hands held in a defensive stance.
“Come on, you crazy freak,” Ammie yelled into the wind. Both hands were raised, fists loosely bunched and ready to lash out. “Come on.”
The creature struggled forward. Zac wasn’t even sure if the creature had genitalia, least of all where Ammie had kicked it, but whatever she connected with it was enought to daze the demon. He heard the sharp crack of gunfire as Nick came running into the snow, his SIG-Sauer snapping off a shot into the beasts’ chest. Blue-white blood gushed into the air and the creature let out another scream. The sound echoed in their ears, a scream that chilled the marrow in their bones. Zac wasn't sure, but it was possible he was screaming as well.
When the silence came, Zac ran for the cars. He was relying on old instincts, the dogged persistence needed to run through the snow towards a try line. He heard Ammie yelling again, glanced back just in time to see her launch her body upwards and swing a roundhouse kick into the creature's head. The head snapped backwards, bobbing back and forth like a childs toy. Zac shuddered as he watched it twist and weave, trying to block out the thought that head and body were connected by a slinky. He hit the slope of the car, clambering through snow until he felt the steel of the bonnet beneath his boots.
Nick fired again, a clear shot that nailed the creature right between the eyes. Blue-black blood sprayed accross the parking lot, covering Zac in gore. Zac slumped against the care, staring at the carnage and gristle that surrounded him. Ammie was letting out a yell of triumph, Nick a quick grunt as he kept the pistol trained.
The creatures body staggered backwards, righted itself, and flexed the ice-tipped claws against the wind. The faint trail of blue-ish steam that rose from the space where its head should have been evaporated into the wind.
Then it turned, pointing a taloned finger directly at Nick.
Ammie screamed. Zac clambered through the broken windshield of the cruiser, searching for a weapon. The headless demon LAUNCHED itself at Nick, the trail of blue-white steam marking its path accross the snow. Nick threw up both hands to shield his face…
...and protected it from a burst of cold air and snow that rushed past, dissappearing into the storm.
Everyone stood in the midst of the parking lot. Waiting.
“What the HELL was THAT?” Ammie demanded.
No one answered. One by one, they realized they were loosing feeling in their fingers and toes.
“Guns, flashlight and ignition,” Nick said. Ammie didn’t respond, so he pushed her towards the cruiser. Zac was already rummaging around inside, searching for useful equipment. He let out a cry of triumph, a bloody hand holding up the cruisers first aid kit.
“What are you doing?” Ammie asked. Nick shrugged.
“First, some crowd control,” he said. “Then I’m getting ready to patch his stomach. Then we’re getting the wounded out of here.”
Ammie stared at him for a few seconds, ready to argue. Then she gave a brief shrug, turned and stalked towards the cruiser.
Nick watched her go, then dragged himself back to the doors of the rest stop. Lousy *&#%$ of a day, he though. At least it can’t get much worse.
It's about then that he caught his first whiff of gasoline and smoke.
“Oh crap, oh crap.”
Zac started moving, a few seconds ahead of his cognitive thoughts that told him it was a bad idea. He slugged through the snow in a stumbling sprint, trying to cover the space between himself and the demon. there was a flash of black in the snow, a momentary glimpse of Ammie's hand as she struggled to find her feet, and then he was airborne. Sailing towards the creature in a flying tackle.
Five years of highschool football came rushing back to him, the feeling of his weight cruising through the air in an effort to intercept his opponent before it could do any damage. He hit the creature sqaurely, his shoulder driving into the things side...
…and it barely moved.
“Oh CRAP.”
Fetid breath caught Zac in the face, making him gag. He coughed, distracted just long enough for glittering claws to DRIVE into his stomach and sending him sprawling back in the snow. A wave of dizziness swept over him.
Zac's blood fountained out in a glittering arc, staining the snow as the numb wound gushed crimson fluid. Zac groaned, a hand held to his stomach, and contemplated the common sense of struggling back to his feet. He fought back unconsciousness, his eyes locked on teh glittering red of the wolf-creatures stare as it loomed over him. Zac felt every muscle in his body freeze.
He whimpered.
AAAAIIIIIYAAA.
Ammie was on her feet, pushing upright in a single fluid movement and using the momentum to carry her foot into the creatures’ crotch. The creature let out a straggled cry, its features turning to face the young woman who now stood with both hands held in a defensive stance.
“Come on, you crazy freak,” Ammie yelled into the wind. Both hands were raised, fists loosely bunched and ready to lash out. “Come on.”
The creature struggled forward. Zac wasn’t even sure if the creature had genitalia, least of all where Ammie had kicked it, but whatever she connected with it was enought to daze the demon. He heard the sharp crack of gunfire as Nick came running into the snow, his SIG-Sauer snapping off a shot into the beasts’ chest. Blue-white blood gushed into the air and the creature let out another scream. The sound echoed in their ears, a scream that chilled the marrow in their bones. Zac wasn't sure, but it was possible he was screaming as well.
When the silence came, Zac ran for the cars. He was relying on old instincts, the dogged persistence needed to run through the snow towards a try line. He heard Ammie yelling again, glanced back just in time to see her launch her body upwards and swing a roundhouse kick into the creature's head. The head snapped backwards, bobbing back and forth like a childs toy. Zac shuddered as he watched it twist and weave, trying to block out the thought that head and body were connected by a slinky. He hit the slope of the car, clambering through snow until he felt the steel of the bonnet beneath his boots.
Nick fired again, a clear shot that nailed the creature right between the eyes. Blue-black blood sprayed accross the parking lot, covering Zac in gore. Zac slumped against the care, staring at the carnage and gristle that surrounded him. Ammie was letting out a yell of triumph, Nick a quick grunt as he kept the pistol trained.
The creatures body staggered backwards, righted itself, and flexed the ice-tipped claws against the wind. The faint trail of blue-ish steam that rose from the space where its head should have been evaporated into the wind.
Then it turned, pointing a taloned finger directly at Nick.
Ammie screamed. Zac clambered through the broken windshield of the cruiser, searching for a weapon. The headless demon LAUNCHED itself at Nick, the trail of blue-white steam marking its path accross the snow. Nick threw up both hands to shield his face…
...and protected it from a burst of cold air and snow that rushed past, dissappearing into the storm.
Everyone stood in the midst of the parking lot. Waiting.
“What the HELL was THAT?” Ammie demanded.
No one answered. One by one, they realized they were loosing feeling in their fingers and toes.
“Guns, flashlight and ignition,” Nick said. Ammie didn’t respond, so he pushed her towards the cruiser. Zac was already rummaging around inside, searching for useful equipment. He let out a cry of triumph, a bloody hand holding up the cruisers first aid kit.
“What are you doing?” Ammie asked. Nick shrugged.
“First, some crowd control,” he said. “Then I’m getting ready to patch his stomach. Then we’re getting the wounded out of here.”
Ammie stared at him for a few seconds, ready to argue. Then she gave a brief shrug, turned and stalked towards the cruiser.
Nick watched her go, then dragged himself back to the doors of the rest stop. Lousy *&#%$ of a day, he though. At least it can’t get much worse.
It's about then that he caught his first whiff of gasoline and smoke.
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arwink
Clockwork Golem
Random Game Notes:
The Winter Demon being used here isn't quite the winter demon presented in the original adventure. Nick's player had been part of a one-off game I ran using Exit 23 as a basis, so there were a few minor twists to ensure the experience wasn't exactly the same.
The action point system being used is a little more robust that the core D20 modern system, allowing people to make limited called shots and achieve ludicrous results should they roll enough sixes. It's taken a lot of influence from games like Feng Shui and the Buffy Roleplaying Game. Ammie made good use of her points to keep the demon a little occupied during the fight (Damn lousy Fort save). Nick to keep plugging the demon and confirm more than a few crits over the course of the adventure.
Nick is a level 2 Dedicated Hero, an ATF agent who scored the nickname "Mouldy" due to an obsession he's developed over recent years. Needless to say, the revelation of the demon and the subsequent transfer to the Hoffman Institute may well be something of a dream job for him. Maybe
He was on his way to a fishing lodge to wind down a little, maybe get some perspective on the creepy stuff he's following before it costs him his job.
Ammie is pure Fast Hero, with a bunch of feats pushed into martial-arts style stuff. She basically works as a trainer,was headed out to a horse ranch owned by the backer of her dojo's, and didn't really deserve any of the stuff that happened to her over the night spent in the Rest Stop.
Zac is a Dedicated Hero 1, Charismatic Hero 1. Part journalist, part conspiracy theorist, part reserved geek build like a front row footballer (which I'm not entirely sure what the equivelent is in American codes). About halfway throught he fight Zac made a fairly rediculous roll with his Knowledge (Occult) and pegged what they were up against.
We play again tonight, for the second round of Dark*Mattery goodness. This time they take on their first official investigation as Hoffman agents in "Gators Under Gary."
The Winter Demon being used here isn't quite the winter demon presented in the original adventure. Nick's player had been part of a one-off game I ran using Exit 23 as a basis, so there were a few minor twists to ensure the experience wasn't exactly the same.
The action point system being used is a little more robust that the core D20 modern system, allowing people to make limited called shots and achieve ludicrous results should they roll enough sixes. It's taken a lot of influence from games like Feng Shui and the Buffy Roleplaying Game. Ammie made good use of her points to keep the demon a little occupied during the fight (Damn lousy Fort save). Nick to keep plugging the demon and confirm more than a few crits over the course of the adventure.
Nick is a level 2 Dedicated Hero, an ATF agent who scored the nickname "Mouldy" due to an obsession he's developed over recent years. Needless to say, the revelation of the demon and the subsequent transfer to the Hoffman Institute may well be something of a dream job for him. Maybe
He was on his way to a fishing lodge to wind down a little, maybe get some perspective on the creepy stuff he's following before it costs him his job. Ammie is pure Fast Hero, with a bunch of feats pushed into martial-arts style stuff. She basically works as a trainer,was headed out to a horse ranch owned by the backer of her dojo's, and didn't really deserve any of the stuff that happened to her over the night spent in the Rest Stop.
Zac is a Dedicated Hero 1, Charismatic Hero 1. Part journalist, part conspiracy theorist, part reserved geek build like a front row footballer (which I'm not entirely sure what the equivelent is in American codes). About halfway throught he fight Zac made a fairly rediculous roll with his Knowledge (Occult) and pegged what they were up against.
We play again tonight, for the second round of Dark*Mattery goodness. This time they take on their first official investigation as Hoffman agents in "Gators Under Gary."
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HeapThaumaturgist
First Post
Tee Hee. Dark*Matter just keeps coming back. Very very nice.
We had to put our own D*M game on a long hiatus for marriage-things and then 3/5 of the group has been moving house and changing over to a new city. Should start up again next Friday, though. We've been tiding ourselves over with Pulp/Supers.
Keep it up, I want to see where this branches out. I've run Exit 23 for 4 different groups now. I have a feeling Hoffmann actually owns the exit and has a stable full of demons that they unleash on unsuspecting individuals so they can breed new agents.
Hhhhhrrrrmmmm ...
--fje
We had to put our own D*M game on a long hiatus for marriage-things and then 3/5 of the group has been moving house and changing over to a new city. Should start up again next Friday, though. We've been tiding ourselves over with Pulp/Supers.
Keep it up, I want to see where this branches out.
I've run Exit 23 for 4 different groups now. I have a feeling Hoffmann actually owns the exit and has a stable full of demons that they unleash on unsuspecting individuals so they can breed new agents.Hhhhhrrrrmmmm ...
--fje
arwink
Clockwork Golem
HeapThaumaturgist said:
Wierd. Dark*Matter is the campaign I started on our Thursday night rotation, to replace the Supers game after a bunch of players left the states
I think the players are slowly coming to the same conclusion. After three sessions they have a kind of hate/hate relationship with the institute and it's need to know attitude, which had its beginnings in this adventure. They're far more suspicious of the events in 23 than I expected them to be.
arwink
Clockwork Golem
Exit 23, Part Eight
Nick ran into the convenience store, letting instinct and logic guide him to the fire extinguisher behind the counter. HE ignored the in case of emergency sign and smashed the glass with the butt of his pistol, hauling the red cylinder out and spraying down the fire with foam. Heat was starting to bead on his forehead when Ammie and Zack came in through the front doors, both of them armed with mini-extinguishers from their rentals.
“What in hell is going on?” Ammie demanded.
“Less talk, more extinguishing.”
All in all, the fire didn’t last long. Between the three extinguishers they quickly cut off the spread of the flames, localizing the damage to a short pair of shelves filled with trashy magazines and national enquirers.
“I smell gas,” Zack said, tossing the empty extinguisher over his shoulder.
“Deliberately lit,” Nick said. He was leaning against the counter to the shop, checking the ammunition in his pistol. “Someone in here isn’t playing nice.”
“Yeah, like the lurking psycho in a fur coat didn’t give that away,” Ammie muttered.
“It’s not a fur coat, you know,” Zack said. “I’ve read about those things – they’re called Hariken. It's a demon.”
"Demon," Ammie said. "As in, pointy horns and root of all evil kind of thing."
"It's note quite that simple, but you've grasped the basic concept, yes."
“Riiiiiight.”
“I’m serious. They steal the heads of their victims and use them to transform into that person. A perfect disguise.”
“So one of them chose to look like a wolf?”
Zack thought about that. Shrugged.
“It could have been desperate. What I don’t get is why it’s here. Rumor has it that these things build cults around themselves, they like to be worshipped. Attacking lone truck stops isn’t really their style.”
He paused as Nick clicked the safety on his pistol
“It doesn’t really matter,” Nick said. “If…note I said if…you’re right, then we’ve got bigger problems to deal with. If you are actually a crazy crackpot, the same applies. At this point, the best thing we can do is get one of those cars started and get the wounded to safety. Everyone, if we can get a large enough truck going. I’m going to go calm people down, the two of you get back to starting a car. Working out what’s happening is something we can do when we’re somewhere safe and warm.”
Ammie and Zack nodded wearily, started preparing themselves to head back into the storm. Nick watched them go, holstered the pistol and headed back towards the donut shop. It was quiet. Probably to quite, considering the smell of gasoline and fire that still lingered in the air.
The gun was back in his hand. Nick leaned and glanced through the doorway.
Just in time to see a giant trucker pulling the trigger of a .44 magnum, spitting lead in Nick’s general direction.
Nick ran into the convenience store, letting instinct and logic guide him to the fire extinguisher behind the counter. HE ignored the in case of emergency sign and smashed the glass with the butt of his pistol, hauling the red cylinder out and spraying down the fire with foam. Heat was starting to bead on his forehead when Ammie and Zack came in through the front doors, both of them armed with mini-extinguishers from their rentals.
“What in hell is going on?” Ammie demanded.
“Less talk, more extinguishing.”
All in all, the fire didn’t last long. Between the three extinguishers they quickly cut off the spread of the flames, localizing the damage to a short pair of shelves filled with trashy magazines and national enquirers.
“I smell gas,” Zack said, tossing the empty extinguisher over his shoulder.
“Deliberately lit,” Nick said. He was leaning against the counter to the shop, checking the ammunition in his pistol. “Someone in here isn’t playing nice.”
“Yeah, like the lurking psycho in a fur coat didn’t give that away,” Ammie muttered.
“It’s not a fur coat, you know,” Zack said. “I’ve read about those things – they’re called Hariken. It's a demon.”
"Demon," Ammie said. "As in, pointy horns and root of all evil kind of thing."
"It's note quite that simple, but you've grasped the basic concept, yes."
“Riiiiiight.”
“I’m serious. They steal the heads of their victims and use them to transform into that person. A perfect disguise.”
“So one of them chose to look like a wolf?”
Zack thought about that. Shrugged.
“It could have been desperate. What I don’t get is why it’s here. Rumor has it that these things build cults around themselves, they like to be worshipped. Attacking lone truck stops isn’t really their style.”
He paused as Nick clicked the safety on his pistol
“It doesn’t really matter,” Nick said. “If…note I said if…you’re right, then we’ve got bigger problems to deal with. If you are actually a crazy crackpot, the same applies. At this point, the best thing we can do is get one of those cars started and get the wounded to safety. Everyone, if we can get a large enough truck going. I’m going to go calm people down, the two of you get back to starting a car. Working out what’s happening is something we can do when we’re somewhere safe and warm.”
Ammie and Zack nodded wearily, started preparing themselves to head back into the storm. Nick watched them go, holstered the pistol and headed back towards the donut shop. It was quiet. Probably to quite, considering the smell of gasoline and fire that still lingered in the air.
The gun was back in his hand. Nick leaned and glanced through the doorway.
Just in time to see a giant trucker pulling the trigger of a .44 magnum, spitting lead in Nick’s general direction.
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